Stories for the Former Audience
by Templar1138
Summary: This is a collection of Thomas the Tank Engine stories that I myself have written for the purposes of entertaining those who also grew up with the original stories on TV. The themes are more serious and oriented towards adults.
1. Thomas and the Supermodel

Disclaimer: Thomas the Tank Engine does not belong to me.

Thomas and the Supermodel

Thomas has been running his branch line for a long time, now. He's almost never late to any of the stations and the passengers are complacent as they ride along in his coaches, Annie and Clarabelle. But as with all things that run on a schedule, it doesn't always go so smoothly.

One day, Thomas was waiting at the station that connected his branch line to the main line. James was supposed to have arrived with his train, but he was twenty minutes late.

"Damn it!" Thomas fumed, "James never takes this long. Where the hell could he be?"

Finally, James' whistle sounded and he pulled into the station. He looked tired, "Sorry, Thomas. I tried to get here as quickly as I could."

"What took you so long?" Thomas snapped, "Did you put a hole in one of your coaches' brake pipes again? You and those damned bootlaces."

James let off steam angrily, "You git! It was nothing of the sort! There's a celebrity on my train, and I was late because of her!"

"A celebrity?" Thomas asked curiously, "We've never had one of those on our line that made a train late. They usually respect our need to run the trains on time."

"Well, this celebrity is a fashion model from America. She's on a tour and held up my train at the big station!" James looked onto the platform. "See?! She's doing it again!"

Thomas observed as the model took suggestive poses and the people at the station (mainly men) took pictures. The conductor blew his whistle time and again, but no one would get into Thomas' coaches.

"Why didn't you just leave the station if the passengers refused to get onto your train?" Thomas asked James, "The passengers would've blamed her for her flaunting."

"That's what I said," replied James, frowning, "But driver said that if we did that, the model would blame Sir Topham Hat, and then no one would use our railway."

Thomas gritted his teeth as the model continued to flaunt about the station, signing autographs and posing for pictures. She even had the nerve to pose using the side of his boiler as a background! He angrily shot off a jet of steam at her.

"Thomas!" his driver snapped, "Don't! Remember what James said!"

The model, however, didn't realize that Thomas was angry at her. Instead, she coyly turned to her gawking fans and said, "Well! It seems I can arouse steam engines, too!"

They all laughed, and Thomas grew very angry.

At last, the model casually walked up to the door into Annie and entered. The rest of the passengers quickly followed.

The conductor blew his whistle and Thomas was off.

"The nerve of that woman!" he grumbled as he puffed forward, "She thinks she owns this railway!"

"Don't worry, Thomas," chanted Annie and Clarabelle, "she'll be gone tomorrow."

Thomas made it to the last station on his branch line, and the model got off onto the platform.

"Come on, Thomas," said his driver, "We'll let Bertie deal with her."

Thomas, heaving a sigh of relief, put Annie and Clarabelle onto a siding before going off to the shed.

The next day, however, James was late again.

"Oh, bugger me!" groaned Thomas as the supermodel got off James' train and started posing again. "I thought she'd be gone by now!"

"I'm afraid not," James replied, "Apparently, she thought that your branch line was so _beautiful_, she needed to see it again."

"Normally I'd feel complimented when someone says that my branch line is beautiful, but hearing it from that tart makes me wish I were still shunting at the big station!"

"You should've seen Percy," grinned James, "He was absolutely embarrassed when the model used his curvy frame to show off her flexibility."

"I'll have to get him to tell me about that sometime," Thomas snorted, "Sometime _after_ the model's left Sodor for good."

The model got tired of posing for pictures and climbed into Annie once more, and Thomas almost knocked the conductor off Clarabelle, starting off as fast as he did.

A few miles down the line, they came to a signal set at "Danger." The signal was in front of a rather isolated signal box in the middle of some farm land.

Thomas scowled impatiently, "First the model, now this! Why does this happen to me? Why?"

The conductor went up to the signalman to see what was the matter.

"What's the matter?" growled the signalman, "I'll tell you what the matter is: my job. Sir Topham Hat wants me to run this signal box all day with no breaks, nobody to relieve me, and no places nearby that I could go to even if I had such relief! I don't even have a minifridge to keep my lunch in!"

"So you're obstructing the railway because of that? What about the passengers?" argued the conductor.

"Fuck the passengers," Snapped the signalman, "I'm on strike."

They continued to argue, and then the passengers got out and started arguing with the signalman too. Finally, the supermodel came forward, obviously unhappy that no one would take any interest in her, "What's going on?" she pouted.

The signalman looked at her in disbelief, "You're that model, aren't you?"

The model replied, "Yes, but why are you holding up my train? I have places to be, you know."

Thomas snarled at the model calling it _her _train.

The signalman seemed to be hesitating, but then he grinned, "I have an idea. If you're willing to let me... interview you, then maybe I'll put the signal down and let the train keep going."

Thomas was confused at first, but then it occurred to him what the signalman was up to. Normally, he'd see this kind of scheme as foul, but he didn't mind when it came to that model. He grinned to himself.

The model, however, didn't seem to catch on, and she looked like she was about to politely refuse, but the passengers urged her, and some got their cameras ready.

At last, she agreed. The signalman started leading her up to the signal box, but turned to the rest of the passengers, "I don't want to be disturbed. When I'm done, she'll come back down to the train and I'll drop the signal. But if any of you get any bright ideas, it'll take me a longer time to finish, understand?"

The more eager of the passengers sighed disappointedly and climbed back into the coaches.

Ten minutes passed. Thomas was already very late, but he didn't mind. He hummed a little tune to himself to pass the time.

Finally, the model came out of the signal box, her head hanging in shame. She climbed down the stairs and got back into Annie.

The signal dropped and Thomas started down the line once more.

The next day, things ran smoothly. James arrived early at the junction, smiling gleefully. "Thomas! Have you heard the news? That supermodel's announced that she's quitting her job!"

"Really?" Thomas asked innocently, "Why would she ever do that?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing she came to her senses and was ashamed of all those lewd pictures that she posed for."

"I'll bet she was," Thomas agreed, "Oh, and on that note, one of my signalmen obstructed my train yesterday."

"Really?" asked James, "Why?"

"I don't know, but driver tells me that Sir Topham Hat fired him because of his impromptu strike."

"Those signalmen don't realize how easy their jobs are. I've known a good few that just go to sleep at their posts!" James mused.

"Agreed," said Thomas, "But I have my own reasons to give this one some credit."

Before James could ask Thomas what he meant, the conductor's whistle blew, and Thomas went off to run his train on time.


	2. Gordon Takes a Life

Disclaimer: Thomas the Tank Engine does not belong to me.

Gordon Takes a Life

Gordon the big engine is very proud. He does a fine job of pulling the express, and the passengers see him as quite the celebrity.

"I'm a symbol of this railway," he boasted to Henry at the station, "When people see me, they shout, 'There's Gordon, the finest engine Sir Topham Hat has to offer!'"

Henry laughed, "What happens when you burst your safety valve? Or when you run off a turntable into a ditch? Or need I mention the time your dome flew off as well? It seems to me that you become a ridiculous mascot."

Gordon looked severely at Henry, "We all make our mistakes, Henry, like when _you_ went off the rails with the Flying Kipper. Some accidents just can't be avoided."

Henry grimaced at the memory of that accident, "Well, you have a point there, Gordon. I'm just glad that no one was hurt."

"As well you should be," rumbled Gordon, "If anyone had been in that brake van when you crashed into it, you would've been in a very disgraceful position."

Presently, they heard a conductor's whistle.

"Oh, it's time for me to go," said Gordon, "Goodbye, Henry."

He whistled, and started off.

Gordon sped along the main line with the express. No matter how often he did this, it was always an exhilarating thrill for him. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!" he puffed to the coaches.

Far ahead of him, there was trouble. A group of college students who were home visiting their families were having a party near the rails. They'd been drinking, and were being rather noisy and rowdy.

One of them, whose name was Randy, climbed over the fence and started dancing on the rails, "Look at me!" he shouted, "I'm an engine!" His friends laughed, and he continued to prance about in his drunken state.

Gordon continued rushing along the line. He passed by a signal that was set at a warning position. The signalman had learned of the party, and had set the signal to alert engines to blow their whistles. Gordon slowed down, but he was still going quite fast. He whistled, but he was more interested in attracting admiring passers-by than warning anyone.

Gordon's whistle was loud and could be heard from a great distance, but the loud music kept the partying students from being able to hear, and their lack of sobriety made them less cautious about the rails.

Randy was still dancing on the rails when Gordon was visible. Some of the less drunken students tried to shout to him, but he took no notice.

Gordon saw Randy and was alarmed, "GET OFF THE RAILS!!!" He whistled and shouted, and his driver applied the brakes.

Needless to say, Randy didn't get off the rails, and Gordon couldn't slow down quickly enough. Gordon shut his eyes, and something splattered across his face.

When he opened his eyes, there was a great clamor about him. Many of the party-goers were panicked and screaming. The driver called for an ambulance, and the fireman tried to keep the passengers and students from getting too close to the scene while the conductor rushed back behind the train with his red flag in hand.

Gordon was shocked, and was absolutely numb. "Wh-what happened?" he asked his driver in a shaken voice.

The driver avoided looking directly at him, "I think you know as well as I do, Gordon."

Gordon was overwhelmed, "That's his blood on me, isn't it?"

The driver nodded.

Gordon couldn't speak. The blood on his face almost felt like it was burning, and he could feel the accusing eyes of the partiers and the passengers. He knew that they weren't looking at him in amazement, but in frightened awe at how dangerous he was.

The ambulance arrived with a police car following, but what was left of Randy was collected to be taken away in a body bag. The policeman questioned the driver, fireman, and the partiers about what had happened. He said he'd need to see the superintendent about it, but it looked like most of the blame rested with those at the party.

Gordon wasn't convinced. He felt it was his fault that Randy was dead. He no longer wanted to pull the express.

"Please," he begged his driver somberly, "Get Henry to take the train and get me to the shed….and get this blood off of me…" His driver agreed and uncoupled him.

Back at the shed, the workmen managed to wash the blood off of Gordon, but he was still numb. "It feels like it's going to be stuck on me forever…"

For the following week, Gordon stayed in the shed. His driver tried to convince him to come out, but he refused. "I'm too dangerous," he moaned, "I'm a disgrace to this railway."

The other engines became miserable too. Although they didn't appreciate Gordon's boasting, his confidence had always been an inspiration to them. However, without him they started to question just how safe to people _they _were. Toby the tram engine was the only one who didn't.

"I've got these cow-catchers and side-plates," he was explaining to Percy, "With them, I won't cause such an accident."

"Yes," said Percy, "but you can't go nearly as fast as Gordon, nor are you as strong."

"That's a good point," frowned Toby, "Poor Gordon. I've never seen him like this before."

"But it wasn't his fault!" protested Percy, "He almost ran me over once, but he stopped just in time. Even if he'd knocked me off the rails, it would've been my fault for not alerting the signalman that I was waiting for the switches to be changed."

"You know, Percy," said Toby, "I think that may have the solution to bringing Gordon out of this sorry state. Why don't you speak with him?"

"Me?" asked Percy, "What good would that do?"

"Like you said," explained Toby, "you survived a similar situation. Gordon probably didn't think it over that much, but you obviously have. Your point of view will likely convince him that he's not to blame."

Percy hesitated, but agreed. He went to the shed to find Gordon.

Gordon was still depressed. He was trying to stay in the shadows of the shed, hiding his face. Even though it had long been cleaned off, he thought that others would still be able to see the blood.

Percy backed into the shed next to Gordon.

"Percy?" Gordon was surprised, "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be shunting in the yard?" He still wanted to be alone.

"You're one to ask," Percy replied, "Aren't you supposed to be pulling the express?"

Gordon became glummer, "I'd just kill more people. It'd be best if Sir Topham Hat sold me for scrap."

"Don't talk like that!" Percy snapped. Gordon flinched. He wasn't used to Percy being like this, but Percy had become cross with Gordon's mood, "How many years have you been pulling the express?"

"Uh, a long time," Gordon stammered, "I've lost count of the years."

"And how many people have died because they were standing on the rails as you rushed by?" Percy demanded.

"One," Gordon said glumly.

"Gordon, that seems like a pretty good record to me. Hell, it's outstanding." Percy calmed down a little and became gentler in his speech, "Do you remember the time you almost crashed into me?"

Gordon remembered, "Yes. You were quick enough to start moving before I ran you over, too."

"That's not at all what happened," Percy retorted, "My wheels were slipping on the rails. I could've been smashed if you hadn't put on your brakes as soon as you did."

Gordon became more depressed, "Then I am dangerous."

"Yes, you are," Gordon was surprised at Percy's calm agreement. Most of the others had given denials as a response, "But you're also careful."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me again; when you saw the warning signal, what did you do?"

"I slowed down, of course," replied Gordon, "and I started whistling."

"Right," said Percy, "you were preparing to stop suddenly. When you saw that young man on the rails, what did you do?"

"I whistled and shouted loudly at him, and put on my brakes," Gordon became sadder, "If only I'd seen him sooner…."

"Stop that!" snapped Percy. It infuriated him that Gordon was feeling so sorry for himself, "You put on your brakes as soon as you saw him. You tried to warn him. You were going slower before you stopped! You did all you could do. Anyone in their right mind would've gotten off the rails before getting hit under those conditions."

Percy took a deep breath, "The same thing happened when you almost hit me. You put on your brakes as soon as you saw me, and you just managed to stop a just in front of me. But if I'd been smashed, it would've been my fault."

Gordon was surprised, "How would it have been your fault? I would've crushed you."

"Yes," agreed Percy, "But I was allowing you to crush me. It was my inattentiveness that almost caused that accident. I'd forgotten to whistle to the signalman, so he didn't know to set the switches for me. The same applies to that young man you killed."

"It does?" Gordon didn't completely understand, but he was amazed that Percy was starting to make sense.

"Yes. He was dancing on the rails, drunk. The loud music his friends were playing prevented him from hearing your whistle. If anything, it was his friends' and his own fault that he died. You did everything you could to prevent the accident, he didn't."

Gordon thought hard on it. Percy had some valid points, "I think I see what you're saying, little Percy, but I need to think this over."

Percy smiled to himself. He knew that Gordon's ego was returning by his use of the word little. "Very well. As for me, I have some freight cars to attend to." He puffed out of the shed and left Gordon to his thoughts.

The next day, Percy and Toby were gathering coaches for the express. There was no sign of Gordon as usual.

"I suppose Henry will have to take it again today," Toby sighed, "I take it you didn't have any luck with Gordon?"

"I don't know," answered Percy. He was starting to regret the way he'd treated Gordon. He'd been rather angry, after all.

But as Henry was coming around the side of the express, they heard a familiar whistle. _Poop! Poop!_

The passengers were surprised, but when they saw Gordon backing into the express, they cheered.

"I'll take care of this today, Henry," he said.

Henry smiled broadly, "That's fine by me, Gordon."

"Percy?" Gordon asked, "It's been a while. Will you please go around to the back of the train and help me get started? You seem to know how to push me forward."

Percy smiled, "Absolutely, Gordon," he said as he went around to the back.

"Thank you," Gordon responded, "Thank you for everything."

The conductor blew his whistle, and Percy pushed as Gordon pulled. Gordon took the express out of the station and sped along the main line. For the first time in days, the express was a spectacle to those who watched it rush by, pulled by Gordon the big engine.


	3. Duck's Worth

Disclaimer: Thomas the Tank Engine does not belong to me.

Duck's Worth

Duck, the Great Western engine, runs his own branch line by the sea. Known as the Little Western, it can get rather busy, so Donald, Douglas, and Oliver assist Duck with the work. Unfortunately, Duck takes his position too seriously sometimes.

"Those freight cars shouldn't be put in the same siding as those others," he said as he passed Donald on his way to the station one day. Donald scowled and continued to shunt.

"Oliver, these coaches should've been placed closer to the center of the platform," he stated as he backed into his train, "We don't want to inconvenience the passengers." Duck took off before he could respond, so Oliver just frowned.

"Don't take all day at the water tower, Douglas," Duck ordered as he went onto the line. Douglas rolled his eyes.

Later, after their work was finished, Douglas and Oliver were in the shed, talking when Donald arrived.

"Where's Duck?" Oliver asked.

"Ach, 'e be off takin' a freight train. I'twas gonna be mine, but 'e wou'not le' me. Says I won' git there on time, jus' because I was a li'l late yesterday," answered Donald in an annoyed tone.

Douglas agreed, "Aye. 'e thinks 'e knows everythin', 'e does. Why, jus' earlier today, 'e tol' me that I was whis'lin too loudly. 'is mouth is louder than me whis'le, I say."

Oliver frowned, "Duck does know a thing or two about how to run this branch line, but I think he's filled with hot air."

Douglas laughed, "We all are. We're steam engines."

Oliver chuckled, "Good point, but you know what I mean."

"Aye," replied Donald, "yer sayin' that Duck's got more 'ot air in 'im than 'e should."

"Ye know," Douglas mused, "Me driver was tellin' me about a poster 'e saw in the station master's office. It 'ad a picture of a bunch of gears, and the caption said, 'Worth: Jus' because yer necessary don' mean yer impor'ant.' I think it's time Duck learned that less'n."

Oliver and Donald agreed, and the three of them spent most of the night discussing the best way to teach Duck a lesson in worth.

The next morning, Duck was surprised to see Donald, Douglas, and Oliver all sitting in a siding, smiling at him innocently.

"What're you three doing?" he demanded, "There's work to do!"

"Duck," said Oliver, "We've been thinking. Since you clearly know how things need to be done on the branch line and we don't, we thought it'd be best if you showed us how to do our work so that we get every detail correct."

"It's simple," retorted Duck, "If you need to shunt freight cars, you put them into sidings. If you need to pull a passenger train, you gather the coaches and pull them."

"Well, clearly it's no' tha' simple," stated Donald, smiling, "I mean, yesterday I _clearly _wasn't shuntin' right."

Duck lost patience, "Fine. I'll do all your work, you damned lazy slackers, and I'll show just how great the Great Western way is."

"Well then, ye better 'urry up," remarked Douglas, "The first freight train tha' I usually pull leaves in fifteen minutes."

Duck huffed away to fetch the freight cars. When he brought them to the station, he found Douglas waiting on the track next to him, smiling.

"What are you doing?" Duck snapped.

"It's like we tol'dya," Douglas replied, "I'm gonna watch 'ow ye do the work, jus'ta be sure."

Duck sighed and started pulling the freight train. Douglas followed alongside. Duck found it greatly annoying, but he was determined to show Douglas that he could do it.

They reached the station on time, and Duck smirked at Douglas, "That wasn't too difficult. I hope you've learned something."

"Aye," Douglas replied, smiling, "Bu' if I remember correctly, Oliver's firs' passenger train leaves the station we jus' left in five minutes. Ye better hurry, if ye plan to start it on time, but I don' need to tell ye that, since yer a Great Western engine and all."

Duck gritted his teeth as he quickly put the freight cars into a siding and made his way back to the first station. Oliver was waiting on the next track, too. He was smiling in that annoyingly innocent manner.

"Hurry up, Duck. My train was supposed to leave three minutes ago."

Duck rushed to get the coaches. He jostled them and they protested in alarm, "Easy, Duck, easy!"

Duck ignored the coaches and brought them to the platform. He backed onto the train and was coupled on, "Get in quickly, please!" He called to the passengers, and he grimaced as he heard one of them say, "I'd already be in quickly if you'd have been here sooner!"

After the passengers were in, Duck bolted out of the station, Oliver coming alongside.

"I know I don't need to tell you this," he said, smiling, "But you'd really better hurry up if you want to make it on time."

Duck puffed harder and tried to go faster. He ended up going so fast that he overshot the station that was their destination, and had to back up to the platform.

He looked at the clock and groaned. Despite his speed, he was still ten minutes late.

Donald was in a siding talking to Toad, and then he looked at Duck and smiled, "Duck, I see ye made good time! Ye are Great Western, after all. But ye better get a move on. Me train was supposed to leave twelve minutes ago."

For the rest of the day, Duck did his best to do all the work that the other engines refused to do. He was tired, angry, and kept finding that the next train that he had to pull was already late. It was made worse by the fact that Donald, Douglas, and Oliver kept running alongside him, smiling irritatingly.

At the end of the day, Duck wearily pulled into the shed with the other engines.

"Well Donald, Douglas, what did we learn today?" Oliver asked.

"I don' know," Donald said in a puzzled manner, "Duck puts a lo' of stress on how neat and precise everythin' should be, bu' I never seen more jostlin' and bumpin' of the cars an' coaches."

"Aye," agreed Douglas, "and fer someone who gives lectures when we be only four minutes late, he's not too great at gettin' 'is trains in before the ten-minute mark."

"I agree," said Oliver, "also, he barely gives the passengers enough time to get on and off the trains. That's not very courteous to them, is it?"

"That's enough!" Duck shouted. "It wouldn't've been so bad if you'd been doing the work like you were supposed to!"

"Really?" Douglas asked, "Bu' every time we do the werk, ye tend to criticize us."

"So?" asked Duck, "What's your point?"

"Our point," replied Douglas frankly, "Is tha' unless yer confident that ye can do the werk better than us, ye best haud yer wheesht and leave us to it."

"And from what we've seen, you _can't _do the work more efficiently than we can, so that only leaves you one option." finished Oliver.

Duck spluttered and stammered, but realized that this was an argument he could not win. He sighed resignedly and went to sleep, aching from the effort of the day's work.

Afterwards, things ran smoothly on the Little Western. The trains ran on time and the passengers were satisfied. Occasionally, Duck would try to give unnecessary pointers, but the others would say, "You do it, then," and he'd back off. Duck learned that being a Great Western engine did not make him an important one.


End file.
